Some of you may have noticed that I've been transferring my fics from the Bob and George forums to over here. This is yet another one of those, and it happens to be my very first internet fanfiction. This is also the one that's been 'requested' the most from old fans.

If for some inexplicable reason you can't tell simply from looking at the title, this is an AU crackfic that wonders what would happen if X were never put through that initial test period and turned into a biker. Lots of OoC-ness ensures. Rating is 'T' for lots of crazy hijinks, swearing, sexual discussion, drug use, criminal activity, scissors, violence, and cross-dressing.

File 1: That New Millennium Smell

It was a slushy snowy December day. But the sun was shining, and it was fairly pleasant in Detroit. People, both human and reploid, walked out on the streets in either heavy clothes or winter armor and enjoyed the day.

"The end of the world is drawing near! Repent and make yourselves clean for the Day of Judgment! That is the only way to ensure your continued happiness."

Well, most everyone was enjoying the day. Forte was at his usual task of trying to convert the world before it ended. Which he was absolutely certain would happen shortly. Within the next day. He believed that every day, and prayed every night that it would hold off for one more day. So far it was working. But eventually, the world would end no matter what he did.

He spotted a fair sized group headed towards the fire hydrant he was standing on to preach at everyone. It seemed tense between them, so he yelled out, "Friendship is sacred. You should not let petty differences come between you, for you will need all the help you can get when the world ends."

A couple of them snickered. "Bloody hell," another said, "do we have to get yelled at everywhere?"

They moved on.

Forte was quite disappointed with himself. Today had not been a good day for religious conversions. Perhaps he should just spend the rest of Time visiting his favorite cathedral and hoping that he'd done well enough to ensure his own good judgment. It worried him to no end that he would come up short because of his ignorant days as a robot.

He hopped off the fire hydrant. Almost as soon as he did, he heard, "Giving up so early, short stuff?"

That voice. He did not want to hear that voice on a day that was already horrible. He turned quickly. "X, you damned fool! How dare you address me like that when you make your father's soul suffer the way you do. Your actions ensure that you will burn in hell for eternity!"

"***, don't get your circuits overloaded," X replied. He had a bottle of beer in his hand, which he opened by biting off the bottle cap and eating it. "I'm not looking for a fight today."

"I mean it," Forte said, emphasizing his point by stamping his right foot. "The way you carry on, living life from sin to sin, causing violence merely because you are bored, taking what does not belong to you by seriously skewed logic… you have no right to do what you do and get away with it."

"You should not have to be forced to do what it right; you should do it for your soul's sake, and your father's. But mark my words, the next time someone dies because of you, I am reporting everything I know of you."

Unfortunately, that threat wasn't taken seriously. "Oh sure, like you haven't killed anyone. Besides, why the heck are you taking Dr. Light's side anyways? He's a ***** jerk."

"Thomas Light was the kindest, wisest, and best person I have ever met. Don't speak of him that way! I simply wasn't able to realize that until it was too late for me to ask for his forgiveness. And for that I am suffering. And for that I can't stand to see you make his ghost suffer because you have fallen so low. I will make you change, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming the whole way."

"Sheesh. You must have been a lot more fun to hang around with before you turned into this fire and brimstone preacher."

"That's the Oracle of Time, remember?"

X rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Look, why're you ruining everyone's New Year's Eve? This is supposed to be a day of celebration."

"It's not ruining… it's New Years Eve?"

"Duh."

"Of what year? Please tell me."

"*** ****, you're the Oracle of Time, remember?"

Forte pulled a gold pocket watch off his hip and opened it. "Well, the Clock is broken, so I can't really know what Time it exactly is…"

"Idiot." He took a drink. "It's 2100, and it's going to be 2101. True start of the new century. And I'm damn glad the last one is almost over."

"I don't quite trust you," he said. Another group of people were walking by, so Forte called out, "Hey, what year is it?"

"Aren't reploids supposed to know that instinctively?" one woman asked.

"It's 2101!"

"Not for a few hours," another said, roughly shoving the other aside. "It's 2100, for the rest of this day."

X laughed loudly over this. "****, he's so easily excited." And he continued on the way he had been walking.

The other group looked at each other. "What the hell was that all about?"

"Crazy reploids," the woman said.

"Our Maverick Hunters are coming together nicely," Dr. Cain said as he walked in the park. Two reploids accompanied him. "You're doing a splendid job Sigma."

The tallest of the trio, and also the baldest, nodded. "We've got good reploids in the force now. And so far everyone is keeping the goal of protecting all forms of life on Earth close to heart. We won't let the mavericks terrorize any more."

"I like how you've split the units up," Cain went on. "Every team is balanced and keeps an eye on itself. But I felt you could use some experience in the group, so I've talked this one into joining. This is Blues, formerly of the FBI. It was for twenty-four years, am I correct?"

"Yes, that is right," he finally spoke up. Sigma was finding this experienced agent a bit ghostly. He moved without making a sound and would not remove his sunglasses or scarf for anything. Still, a reploid trained with a force other than a military was welcome.

"What did you do there?" Sigma asked.

"Investigating, sometimes undercover," Blues said. "I was sent on cases no human could do, but since the forming of the Maverick Hunters, most of those bypass the IBI and go straight to you."

"Can you fight?"

"Can fish swim?"

"Blues is an honored FBI agent," Cain cut in. "And he's experienced with leadership. I think you could put him in charge of Squad 16 with no trouble."

"I was thinking that too. I hope you don't mind. 16 is a good unit and one of the larger ones, but there's no clear-cut leader in the group yet. None of them are really leadership material."

"If they're fine with that, I will be."

"I'm free!" A short black reploid ran across their path, gleefully shouting.

Blues caught him by the shoulder. "Watch where you're going."

Forte turned, grinned, and hugged him. "It's almost over! The century of evil is almost over. I'm going to be free by midnight! Isn't that swell?"

"I guess."

Forte skipped back a few steps and bowed. "God is gracious, even to some of the worst of us. I'm so happy. Yee-haw!" Then he kept running.

"Who was that?" Sigma said.

Blues grinned. He wasn't facing the other two. "I have no idea."

The Detroit Museum of Art was a quiet place most days. Winter was their best season, as people came looking for intellectual indoor activities. Currently, the showcase gallery was displaying a number of paintings by reploids. Since that was the case, the guard for that area had to be a reploid. It was politically correct, the curator had explained, so the usual guard of the showcase gallery, a robot, was reassigned to the Renaissance wing for the duration of the show. Rock was okay with that; then again, he was okay with pretty much every order given to him. He was a robot, after all.

He was just under four feet high, because he wasn't wearing his helmet at the moment. He looked very much like a boy of ten and most people assumed that the security badge he was wearing on his chest plate was a plaything. Still, he could assume a commanding look in his eyes that made one take him seriously.

"No touching yourself in front of the nudes," he told a rule-breaking man.

He looked startled at Rock. His face turned bright red. "Sorry." He ran off and left the museum.

These days, Rock rarely dealt with any seriously bad people. There was once a time when he had done such, but now he was an art museum guard. He applied himself as seriously to the job he was at today as to when he'd been a hero of decades past. The Detroit Museum of Art was recognized as the safest museum in the world, mostly because of Rock's determination.

The only other incident of this day was late in the evening, when the museum was closing down. Tonight, there was no need for steering people out to the exit. New Year's Eve. Most people were already partying, and Rock would shortly be the only one in the museum. But before the doors could be locked, someone from his past came rushing in.

"Rock, there you are!" Forte came running up to him. "Guess what, guess what, guess what?"

"You don't have to be redundant," Rock said.

Forte grabbed his shoulders. "I'm free! This century is gone and my era of freedom has begun! I never thought this day would come!"

"There's still two hours left."

"I don't think even Dr. Wily could blow up the world in two hours. That means I'm free! The world is going to live and I can finally do what I want."

"Dr. Wily's dead," Rock reminded his old rival. "We were both there, remember? I'm pretty sure that having a human's head explode is going to kill him."

Forte paused. "Oh yeah, you're a robot, you don't understand. It didn't matter if he died, he still held me captive. His spirit was always there, always looming over me trying to get me to do what he wanted, even though he gave me the ability to choose what I wanted to do for myself. So I set about to warning the world that he was going to destroy the world. I wasn't sure how, but I thought he would. But the century is over! He said he would rule the world or erase it by 2101. But if it's still here and he's still dead, we're all free. And I'm especially free."

"Is your mind operating correctly? You seem to be illogical."

"You poor dear," he sighed. "You're very sweet, but your mind is closed. I envy your spiritual innocence, even though I know you have no soul. I didn't expect you to be worried about me. I thought you'd be happy for me since I was finally completely free. That's why I came all the way out here to visit you."

"Thanks, I guess."

Forte began jumping up and down. "But I'm free. That's all that matters now."

"That's good. Are you going to be good now?"

"Of course. I am a prophet!" He jumped back and began emphasizing his points with exaggerated movements. "I am a follower of the true God and a believer in things of the spiritual realm. When my mind was closed, I did evil things thinking I was doing right, because I was following orders. But now I know that I sinned horribly in what I was doing under Wily's orders. So I've set off to save the world's souls before the destruction came. But it never did! Now I will continue to save the souls of the world, both human and reploid. For the world still needs a spiritual revolution, and I will lead it!" He bowed.

"I don't get it," Rock said. "But if you'll stop doing bad things,"

"Certainly."

He smiled. "That's good."

"Excellent! Want to come out with me and celebrate the new century? I'm going to find a cathedral to pray that this era is one of holiness instead of evil."

"No, I'm working. I must protect the art."

"Beauty has its place in the world, so long as it serves the spiritual needs of the people. As always, you find the most holy paths to follow. May God bless you, sweet Rock."

"Uh, may God bless you too Forte."

"You really deserve a soul, far more than me. All well. See you later."

It was a huge street party in Detroit for the New Year, 2101. Just about every organization in the world had some representative there, handing out free advertising and promises for the new century. That included some of the underground organizations, say the budding mafia of Repliforce.

"Honestly," Iris said to her brother, "you'd think even drunk people would remember to have manners."

"It's generally not that way," Colonel told her as he tried to keep some suspect individuals from getting too close. "You're sure you want to be out here?"

"It's good for business and we only have to be out here a little while longer. See, they're starting the countdown already."

Personally, Iris thought the whole deal of celebrating every single year's beginning to be a bit silly. But she owned a number of bars, which did incredibly good business on these sorts of holidays. So she had to be out here, encouraging already drunk individuals to go out to her pub, or maybe even the new casino she had started a few months ago. That would be even better.

She crossed her arms and waited through the loud counting down. She would not stoop to joining in such traditions. But when it got to one, she did look up to the main stage, where a giant laser light display would start a glittering celebration.

She didn't get to see it. Some drunken reploid had grabbed her and kissed her right on the lips. It was done with such stealth that she would have been impressed if her temper was anywhere near calm.

She pushed him off her. "What in heaven's name was that for!"

He put his hands over his lips and laughed. "For good luck, of course pretty girl. You do know that is the way to insure a very happy year, especially if you stick with the person the rest of the night." He winked insidiously at her.

"How dare you do that to me. I don't even know who you are."

"Well, if you must know," he said, mocking her high class accent, "I am Rockman X. How do you do and who be you?"

"You blue collar jerk. Colonel!"

"Hang on Iris," she heard from behind. "I've gotten a bit swept away."

"Oh, so you're Iris," X said. "Well, Iris, m'dear, did you know that this little interlude of ours means our destinies for this century are intertwined now? Eh? So why don't you stick with me for the rest of the night? I know how to have a good time."

In New York City, the fireworks display was going off splendidly. It was now New Year's Day, 2101. Everyone was celebrating. The Brooklyn Bridge was closed off for public safety, but someone had managed to get on it anyways. Zero had climbed to the top of the bridge support tower and was watching the fireworks show from up there, despite the fact that some of the shells were exploding close to him. He figured the best view was up there.

"Time, time, time, what has become of me," he sang to himself.

When the show ended, the bridge was quickly searched for explosives, then reopened for business traffic. But no one heeded Zero. No one knew he was even up there.

Off his back, he got his guitar and strummed it a bit. "New year, new century," he rambled on. "New history. Be on your guard, mortals. In this new time, you will have a new rule, new order, and new fears. Within a short time, you will know my name. You will know my powers. You will know me as the King of Rock and Roll."

Then he fired off an intense riff, leading into a song of his own making. If anyone had been around to hear him, they would be quite impressed. He was a guitar master.

"I am better than all of you. I know all the songs, I know all the tricks. I am not Elvis reborn, nor Kenny G, nor the Who, nor the Beatles, nor any of those paltry bands. I am the immortal master of music. I am Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart! I will come back into your music halls and radio waves and prove myself the sole master. I will czzzttt I will destroy you all, worthless humans, stupid reploids, all of you will die for denying the true master czzzttt… ow, damn migraines."

Zero stopped playing and rubbed his forehead. "What the hell was I saying? I thought I was singing."

He attached his guitar to his back again and opened up an armor pocket. He pulled out a bottle of Vextril and took one. It was a strange thing, Vextril. The compound Vexxen suppressed electric activity, the one true poison of all androids. Vextril was a watered down version of Vexxen; it only suppressed over-activity of electrons, allowing it to be used as an effective painkiller and anesthesia for reploids. Zero had become addicted to the substance, because it was the only thing that defeated his incessant migraines.

"I've got to get another gig," he muttered as he looked into the nearly empty bottle. He may have been a guitar and singing master, but few people currently accepted reploids as true musicians and artists. Zero was constantly close to broke, and the drug was expensive.

He put the Vextril back in his pocket and walked along the bridge structure. He considered where he might go to be heard and paid. Just as he thought of a possibility, the Vextril failed to stop an electronic seizure.

Zero tried to keep his balance, but the shaking was too hard. He slipped off the catwalk and onto the roof of a passing semi. There were two drivers on this particular truck. The one resting in back sat up suddenly. "Did you hear that?"

"No, what are you talking about?" the driver said.

"Turn down your *** music. I heard something fall on the roof."

"I heard nothin'."

Finally, the Vextril kicked in and the seizure ended mercifully quick.

"Something's up there," the secondary driver said.

"Calm down, we're almost to Boston. The alarm's not going off. Can't be anything troublesome."

"I guess not."

Zero sat up and checked his guitar. Good, it was still in workable condition.

He lay back down. Where was chance taking him now?

And we start off with X drunkenly kissing Iris and Zero claiming to be Mozart. It's that kind of fic.

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